


catharsis

by MistyMoon



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Fluff, Gay Rights, M/M, but thats it its just real gay free real estate, honestly w the content of the fic gay rights actually makes sense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 10:42:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18050993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistyMoon/pseuds/MistyMoon
Summary: Freedom could heal, they soon understood, and Will was born a healer.





	catharsis

**Author's Note:**

> make a playlist consisting of swedish garden by brice davoli, temporary love by ben platt, and girls like girls by hayley kiyoko (long story) and listen to it while reading this to get the full experience  
> i also strongly recommend that you read the end notes, as i share some very important afterthoughts.
> 
> not proof read as always

As the sun started to set, sunlight was seeping through under the curtains, tinting the room golden. It was a small art room, hidden inside cabin 7, that only four people knew existed. Nico and Will had briefly escaped from camp activities, after many unsuccessful attempts, and were hidden there, looking for a few seconds of peace and quiet. Shadows of the two of them danced on the walls, a moving portrait heavy with emotion. Those walls told a story for them to hear, spoken in a language only they knew. Time seemed to stop; nothing else mattered other than their subtle exchanges of a simple phrase said so often, yet that never lost its meaning.  _ I love you _ , said the hands on Nico’s back.  _ I love you _ , said the fingers carefully reaching for Will’s jaw.  _ I love you _ , said their lips coming together, like they had many times before, a memory so fresh yet so old, a sensation that they wished would never leave. It would never be just a kiss, just another moment; it was relief washing over Nico, hands being untied, mind being set free, the opening of a door that he had kept locked for too long. There were fingers tangled in his hair and hot air on his face and a heart inside his chest beating rapidly with pure elation. Freedom had blue eyes and a name Nico would never tire of saying.

He pulled Will closer and kissed his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, went back to his lips. And he kissed him, and kept kissing him, until they could no longer tell where one ended and the other started. Two sides of the same coin, two ends of a red string. Two heroes of their own story, fused into something made to last. The world could end, and it would not matter; they were two halves of the same soul, longing to be reunited.

Seconds turned into minutes and they had lost track of time; the sun had long set, but Will glowed like it was never gone. Nico broke away from the kiss, taking a moment to breathe, and took the other’s hands into his own, fingers fitting together like puzzle pieces. 

“I love you,” Will said, and truth had never felt this strong. He didn’t say it often, preferring to reserve it for moments like these, where they were so immersed in each other that it was almost as if the world belonged to them and only them. He rested his head against Nico’s, noses brushing against each other, and Nico had never felt more in love. Tan hands came up to hold his face and Will’s touch alone could build monuments in the corner of Nico’s mind that would put the Parthenon to shame. His eyes, always kind and gentle, showed Nico memories the two of them held dear; warm hands fiddling with each other under the cold blankets of cabin 13, impatient kisses exchanged quickly behind the stables,  _ I love you _ ’s murmured against skin, hands covered in paint trying to mark each other’s bodies. Slow, clumsy dances to the sound of their own muffled laughter, quiet hugs under the stars. Some of the bits and pieces of happiness they got to have.

And it was so easy for him to answer, words rolling off his tongue as if he was born for that exact moment. Words that held more power than it seemed; it was a silent promise to be kept well into the future they hoped to plan. “I love you too,” said Nico, blinking away a couple of tears. Few were the things that moved him to that extent, but the idea of a future, one where he would get to be  _ happy _ , was one of them. If children of Hades rarely lived fulfilling lives, then he would be the first. Happy, with the man he loves.  _ Happy _ . 

“Hey,” Will started, and his soft voice made Nico want to cry even more.  _ Happy _ . 

“I’m fine,” he choked out. “It’s just… you know.” And he did not need any more words, the two of them rarely did, because Will didn’t need them to know. It was affection, overflowing affection, in its purest form, a testament of his love. He tried to hold back a few tears too, but they became two crying messes in no time, holding onto each other for support and laughing at their own state (and Will would only admit it to him later, during dinner, that his laughter sounded sweeter than any music he had ever heard). 

Nico rested his head on Will’s chest and they remained like that, in silence, basking in each other’s warmth, until they had to return. Moments like these were rare, where they could focus only on each other and not on anything else, could act like the outside world disappeared, could take in the sound of the other’s breathing and feel their heart beat and remember  _ we are alive _ . They were alive and there was a future to be had,  _ together _ , and they would make a world of their own from the touches they shared in the dark and the words they whispered like a prayer, a world built from burning sunlight and a choir of shadows. A world meant for them, their own elysium on earth, for them to love, and love and love and love and love until the stars were rearranged to tell a story meant not for heroes, not for gods, but for  _ mortals _ . An act of courage rewarded with freedom and the opportunity to live as who they truly are, a story made by chance but maintained by strength and hope, a tale to be told as a chant of liberty. And the gods will know, and Aphrodite herself will spread the word of the stars, because what better gift is there than allowing others to take a leap into the darkness, unafraid, knowing they will find light on the other side?

**Author's Note:**

> id like to make an addendum: in no way do i truly believe love alone can save people, or that it can heal any form of wound or that all forms of love are meant to be freeing. we live in times where love is to be expected of people, that if they do not conform they are seen as odd, sometimes shamed for it, and i understand that love itself is not freeing for all. but after growing up with homophobic words coming from all types of media and people, a childhood filled with repression of his deepest feelings, filled with being an outcast and despised, i do believe allowing himself to be who he /truly/ is was indeed freeing to nico. allowing himself to understand he could love, openly and unafraid, to see that someone else loved him for who he was and was always speaking about it to the four winds, unabashed, i believe it was freeing, maybe more to nico than to will, but surely it meant heaps for the both of them. love itself is not revolutionary, but to love when others tell you you cant, shame you for it, imprison you and murder you, tell you its the highest form of sin, then loving is an act of courage, that not many have the privilege to have - and the fact that it is a privilege for some says enough about its importance - but those who do often times finally feel like they are truly free.  
> and i did not mean to get personal, but ive struggled with coming to terms with the way i love. i grew up in a rather religious school, surrounded by religious people that more often than not preached about the sin of homosexuality, and it harmed me. they have always seen me as a woman (that i am not) and, in my childhood, kissing girls was ecstasy in its purest form. a secret kept in the four walls of bathroom stalls, kept behind the clown trashcans in my building's playground with the first girl to whom i mentioned any rough, childish idea of 'love'. and i did indeed think i was a woman back then, but i did not know the dangers. girls kissing girls just felt like i was disrespecting the religious authorities that told me who i was supposed to be, felt like starting a secret rebellion in the very heart of the city those authorities lived in. now, with the understanding of who i am and the understanding that i want to be seen as a man and want to be seen at a man's side, i am afraid. because now ive watched the news, ive read countless newspapers about people dying because of who they love. and i am afraid, because my present might not be the nightmare i fear (i have a boyfriend and we look like a straight couple but i am still seen as a woman, in a country that murders women for a hobby), but my future will be. and for as long as i am afraid to love, my love is an act of courage, and my love will be freeing for me, even if i am still afraid, because, even if behind closed doors, i am still myself, and that cannot be taken away from me. fear cannot and will not strip me of who i am. i will love, and i will love, and love and love and love even after i am laid to rest, even as hades welcomes me into his palace, i will love, unabashedly and unafraid.
> 
> twt/art insta: @eliottdmrys  
> tumblr: @mlnseoks (i have.. an entire essay about nico di angelo and how important his character is for a book series targeted to kids/teens there so. if u want to, go check it out)


End file.
